Before I completely touch the ground after my long flight from India where I find myself still scattered in a million fragments as one does after 16 hours of flight and crossing three continents, I thought I would attempt to get down in writing what this trip has done for me.
First of all, I think one needs to be ready to go to India and in all my years of travel up until now I never was. But last year after I got back from Vietnam and sat in a restaurant one day pondering my next adventure, one word, “India” popped into my mind. I stood up, paid my bill, and went to an adventure travel company to book my trip into the north of that country.
India is holy, and although each of us may bring back a different interpretation, this adjective is the only one that resonates for me, loud and clear. There is such reverence here in largely Hindu India, an India that has always welcomed other religions and cultures, opening her arms to embrace them, without question. Our guide, Vivek, is Hindu and as he described the various ceremonies and festivals and ways of life of his country, they were always cast in spiritual terms. “Look beyond the poverty, do not judge what you will see on this trip, keep your heart open because I can assure you that each and everyone one of you will be changed by your experience here.”
Major freaking understatement.
From Delhi with its population of 23 million, to Varanasi, Orchha, Agra and Khurajuraho, the home of the ancient 10th century temples and their exquisite erotic art, my perception of the world and my own reality flowered, unbidden.
There are three India’s, Vivek told us: the India of the past, those whose lives are consumed in the present, and the India of the future. On a Delhi street, weaving our way impossibly through traffic in a very fragile rickshaw where I was certain I would meet my end, I saw clearly what he meant. I saw an illuminated sigh for a Smartphone being hung above the streets, over market vendors and those who live in tar paper shacks, selling their meager offerings in the midst of a slum, to a primitive cart being driven by oxen, or camels, who competed for space with the latest model of cars, whose sides had the inevitable side swiped look that comes with competing for space in an often harrowing series of moments.
Somehow it all works, don’t ask me how.
I suppose it was in coming to an understanding of India’s past through visiting the exquisite Amber Fort, the Red Fort and the ethereal Taj Mahal, among other sacred sites, that my deep respect for the Indian people and their miraculous history really took root. The architecture, the reverence with which these amazing structures had been built, to astronomical angles, left me in absolute awe.
From the Red Fort in Agra we could look across the plains and see the Taj Mahal in the misty distance, and it seemed like an exquisite mirage, a jewel truly on the cheek of heaven. As we entered into the grounds of the Taj Mahal through the East Gate, the mirage became reality and all one could do, really, was stand and gape in awe as one does before the sublime and the magnificent.
One night, in Orchha, we went to a Hindu temple ceremony. Anna, one of the women I traveled with, and I decided to join the cue of Indians to receive the priest’s blessing. We were greeted with curious looks and then with smiles as we stood there. I watched the procession of people walking past the holy place where their gods were being venerated (there are 330,000,000 Hindu gods and godesses), and watched as the priest received the offerings of marigolds and food from the people. I was momentarily worried that I did not bring anything with me, but walked along watching the priest giving blessings with a mostly stern countenance impatiently waving the people along. As I passed him he looked over at me and a beautiful, radiant smile crossed his face, like the face of an Angel, and I knew I had been blessed indeed.
After this as we stood outside the temple waiting for our shoes to be handed to us, a cow broke into our circle with lovely, liquid eyes and we were reminded that the reason the cow is so sacred here is because she is the Mother that feeds us and gives us strength, she is the one who nurtures us, and this is why she is so venerated in this country.
What did I learn in India? Many things, call it “finishing school” for this leg of my own spiritual journey as every nuance, every step of this pilgrimage, was designed to present me with challenges that I needed to transcend once and for all. I had no choice but to dig deep and rise above them all.
In Varanasi, after we had finished an early morning river trip down the sacred Ganges, Anna and I took a rickshaw through its streets: swerving traffic, insistent vendors, holy men, beggars, cows, monkeys and even a very large baboon who seemed to delight in jumping on top of a police vehicle (and no other), the ubiquitous honking of every vehicle in the street. At that moment of certain death where we both realized that primal screaming cum laughter was the only credible response, I realized that I had indeed learned the biggest lesson of all.
Surrender.
First of all, I think one needs to be ready to go to India and in all my years of travel up until now I never was. But last year after I got back from Vietnam and sat in a restaurant one day pondering my next adventure, one word, “India” popped into my mind. I stood up, paid my bill, and went to an adventure travel company to book my trip into the north of that country.
India is holy, and although each of us may bring back a different interpretation, this adjective is the only one that resonates for me, loud and clear. There is such reverence here in largely Hindu India, an India that has always welcomed other religions and cultures, opening her arms to embrace them, without question. Our guide, Vivek, is Hindu and as he described the various ceremonies and festivals and ways of life of his country, they were always cast in spiritual terms. “Look beyond the poverty, do not judge what you will see on this trip, keep your heart open because I can assure you that each and everyone one of you will be changed by your experience here.”
Major freaking understatement.
From Delhi with its population of 23 million, to Varanasi, Orchha, Agra and Khurajuraho, the home of the ancient 10th century temples and their exquisite erotic art, my perception of the world and my own reality flowered, unbidden.
There are three India’s, Vivek told us: the India of the past, those whose lives are consumed in the present, and the India of the future. On a Delhi street, weaving our way impossibly through traffic in a very fragile rickshaw where I was certain I would meet my end, I saw clearly what he meant. I saw an illuminated sigh for a Smartphone being hung above the streets, over market vendors and those who live in tar paper shacks, selling their meager offerings in the midst of a slum, to a primitive cart being driven by oxen, or camels, who competed for space with the latest model of cars, whose sides had the inevitable side swiped look that comes with competing for space in an often harrowing series of moments.
Somehow it all works, don’t ask me how.
I suppose it was in coming to an understanding of India’s past through visiting the exquisite Amber Fort, the Red Fort and the ethereal Taj Mahal, among other sacred sites, that my deep respect for the Indian people and their miraculous history really took root. The architecture, the reverence with which these amazing structures had been built, to astronomical angles, left me in absolute awe.
From the Red Fort in Agra we could look across the plains and see the Taj Mahal in the misty distance, and it seemed like an exquisite mirage, a jewel truly on the cheek of heaven. As we entered into the grounds of the Taj Mahal through the East Gate, the mirage became reality and all one could do, really, was stand and gape in awe as one does before the sublime and the magnificent.
One night, in Orchha, we went to a Hindu temple ceremony. Anna, one of the women I traveled with, and I decided to join the cue of Indians to receive the priest’s blessing. We were greeted with curious looks and then with smiles as we stood there. I watched the procession of people walking past the holy place where their gods were being venerated (there are 330,000,000 Hindu gods and godesses), and watched as the priest received the offerings of marigolds and food from the people. I was momentarily worried that I did not bring anything with me, but walked along watching the priest giving blessings with a mostly stern countenance impatiently waving the people along. As I passed him he looked over at me and a beautiful, radiant smile crossed his face, like the face of an Angel, and I knew I had been blessed indeed.
After this as we stood outside the temple waiting for our shoes to be handed to us, a cow broke into our circle with lovely, liquid eyes and we were reminded that the reason the cow is so sacred here is because she is the Mother that feeds us and gives us strength, she is the one who nurtures us, and this is why she is so venerated in this country.
What did I learn in India? Many things, call it “finishing school” for this leg of my own spiritual journey as every nuance, every step of this pilgrimage, was designed to present me with challenges that I needed to transcend once and for all. I had no choice but to dig deep and rise above them all.
In Varanasi, after we had finished an early morning river trip down the sacred Ganges, Anna and I took a rickshaw through its streets: swerving traffic, insistent vendors, holy men, beggars, cows, monkeys and even a very large baboon who seemed to delight in jumping on top of a police vehicle (and no other), the ubiquitous honking of every vehicle in the street. At that moment of certain death where we both realized that primal screaming cum laughter was the only credible response, I realized that I had indeed learned the biggest lesson of all.
Surrender.